Just One Chance, Just One Breath
by Anath Tsurugi
Summary: Just in case there's just one left...What if Thorin's fate could be changed? What price would have to be paid in the end? (Movie-verse, with spoilers for the book. Character Death. BagginShield.)


(A/N) Written for a prompt over on Hobbit Kink. The idea was to rework the end of the book. I guess it's _kind of_ a fix-it fic, only…well…I'll let y'all be the judges. Title comes from Nickelback's "Far Away", if you're not already familiar with it. An awesome song. Also, I certainly hope you didn't click on this after noting the rather glaring BagginShield tag if that's not your thing. If so, I wash my hands of it. To the rest of you, enjoy.

**Just One Chance, Just One Breath**

XxX

_Just in case there's just one left…_

XxX

Thorin Oakenshield had thought he'd known rage when his home was beset by Smaug. He thought he had known betrayal when the elves had left his people to die. He thought he had known helplessness living in exile. He thought he had known pain when he'd lost his father, grandfather, and brother. He _thought_ he had suffered so much.

How wrong he was.

Surely, he thought as he stared at Bilbo Baggins, surely he'd heard wrong. Surely the hobbit hadn't just confessed to handing their enemies the Arkenstone…to _betraying_ them…betraying _him_.

But no…this was really happening. Bilbo, of all people, had betrayed him…and of all the monumental hurts he'd suffered in his life…why was it _this_ one that made him feel like his world was at last crumbling to dust around him…like…like his heart was breaking?

"You?" he whispered, his voice terrible with pain and anger. "_You_ did this?"

"Yes," Bilbo answered calmly, though his eyes shone with more than a little fear. Still he faced down the dwarf king, not backing down.

"_Why?_"

_How could you do this to me?_

"Don't you see how foolish this is? Is gold, treasure…your damnable pride…is any of that really worth your _life?_ The lives of your friends?"

"It's my _birthright_…the blood and tears of my people…it's worth _everything!_" he snarled.

"Not to me."

"What?"

"You heard me. This _magnificent_ hoard of yours…it's just a few shiny pieces of metal and rock. It doesn't _mean_ anything. _Your life_ means something, Thorin. I wasn't about to let you give your life for a _rock!_"

"You had no right-"

"Maybe not, but I made a choice."

"How could you?!" Thorin screamed at him, delivering a harsh blow to his jaw and sending his small body flying.

"Uncle, stop!" Kili shouted, moving to restrain him before he could advance on the downed hobbit. But he quickly shoved his young nephew aside.

"Kili!" he heard Fili shouting as he moved in on Bilbo, picking him up by his collar…only…there was more of pain than anger in his heart when he saw bruises starting to form on the halfling's face.

"Maybe…_we_ don't mean anything to you…but what about Fili and Kili? What about your _family?_ Are you really going to make them die for this senseless grudge?"

_How can you think you mean nothing to me? This would be easier…so much easier…if I cared nothing for you, Bilbo._

"You betrayed me," he hissed in Bilbo's face. The hobbit shook his head.

"No. Never. I'm trying to _save_ you. Look around you. We're fourteen. What can we do against two armies?"

"We need not even _that_ many. We can do with thirteen. I should kill you right now…for what you've done to us," he declared, taking Bilbo by the throat and holding him out over the ledge, as if he meant to fling him from the wall.

"Thorin, stay your hand!" he heard Gandalf shouting from the line of men and elves. Vaguely, he heard his companions pleading with him, begging for Bilbo's life, but he paid none of them any mind. His focus was only for the hobbit, who just stared calmly back at him, not struggling.

"Go ahead," he said, placing gentle hands on Thorin's wrist and caressing what little skin he could reach through his vambraces. "Nothing is more precious to me than your life, Thorin Oakenshield…and I would _rather_ die…than watch you kill yourself."

Thorin sighed, low and broken. His little Baggins was certainly not the hobbit he had been…but why did this have to come _now?_ At the expense of their friendship…their…? No, he couldn't even say it to himself…not now. Finally, he drew Bilbo back in, holding his face close to his. Hurt as he was, he could no more harm the hobbit than he could stop his own breath.

"Be well-pleased with yourself, Bilbo Baggins. You have broken the heart of a king. Perhaps you are not so clumsy a burglar, after all," he whispered against his lips, the words for him alone. Then he dropped him back on the wall, turning away as he spoke his last words to him. "Leave me, halfling. I will never look on you again after this moment."

"Thorin-"

"_Leave me!_" he hissed, his entire body tensing horribly as the pain clawed at his heart, seeking desperately for relief where there was none to be had. "I _never_ want to see your treacherous face again."

_Leave me to my grief, my little thief._

True to his word, Thorin did not look back, forbearing to watch as the others lowered Bilbo over the wall…and if his eyes were a little more bloodshot throughout the rest of the negotiations, his companions didn't dare to comment on it.

XxX

The peace Bilbo had tried to win with the Arkenstone had come to little in the end. It wasn't long before five armies were battling at the gates of Erebor. While Bilbo did heed Thorin's wish to stay away, he did keep within sight of the company when they came pouring out from behind their wall. Briefly, they seemed to turn the tide of battle, but it wasn't long before the goblins and orcs worked themselves back up into a wave…and Thorin and the others were confronted by Azog.

Bilbo began to run the moment he saw Fili and Kili engage the pale orc. Thorin tried so hard to intervene, but they soon fell, more victims of Durin's line for the orc chieftan's blade. Thorin fell into a rage and it wasn't long before his foe was just toying with him.

"_Thorin!_" he heard Bilbo's voice crying out when Azog had driven him to his knees, though he couldn't place where the sound came from. He just knelt where he was, injured and drained, prepared to take his enemy's blade as penance for failing to save his nephews…

Then, with an enraged cry, Bilbo suddenly landed on the orc's back, driving Sting's glowing blade directly through his spine and out through his throat. While Azog had been distracted, Bilbo had climbed the wall in order to get up high enough to take him from behind.

Once Azog had fallen, Thorin and Bilbo were left staring at each other for a moment, and Bilbo's lips curled into a tiny smile. That shy little smile was to be burned into the dwarf king's eyelids for years' worth of nightmares…that and what happened next.

It was a one in a million shot. Certainly, the mithril coat Thorin had given him couldn't be pierced by any weapon, but sadly, the mail did not cover every inch of defenseless flesh. One moment, Bilbo was smiling at him…the next, he was standing before him with a black arrow embedded in the soft hollow just above his right collarbone.

The world around him seemed to lose coherency as Bilbo fell. The rage of battle fell silent in his ears and the sight of it faded away until all he could see was Bilbo. Time seemed to slow as he reached out his arms for him, pulling him close as he collapsed. He couldn't feel the cold of the winter wind…just the warm splash of Bilbo's blood on his cheek…the coppery tang of it on his lips…and the sharp sting of it in his nose.

"You…you saved me…again," he murmured, uncomprehending. His bloodstained fingers curled themselves unthinkingly in the hobbit's dark curls, seeking some kind of reassurance.

"I told you," he whispered, "I won't…watch you die."

Then the little hobbit slumped hopelessly in his arms, his head slipping back and his eyes falling shut.

"No…no…" Thorin whispered in horror. "You can't…burglar…Bilbo? Please…don't be…my thief…my little thief. Don't die. _Please_ don't die."

He was frantic and half-dead himself, At first, he could find no pulse, no beat of blood to testify that Bilbo still lived…and in his few moments of sheer horror, the dwarf king threw his head to the sky and screamed…a cry of such primal pain and loneliness it drove the nearby combatants back in fear.

In the midst of his madness, there was only one brave enough to approach him: Beorn. No one knew exactly how he'd come to be there, but the next thing Thorin became aware of was a large furry maw in his face. When he looked up to see the man's bear form, he saw that Fili and Kili were already slung on his back.

"T-take him," Thorin heard himself pleading. "He's dying. If he dies…if he dies, I…" He couldn't bring himself to finish. Thorin Oakenshield did not beg. Not for any reason had he ever brought himself so low…but here in this moment, something had changed. He would beg for this one small life…this _precious_ life.

Beorn needed no prayers, though. He simply lowered one massive shoulder, allowing Thorin to lay Bilbo on his back.

"Perhaps it's just me, but you seem mightily injured yourself, little king," the large bear said. Thorin shook his head.

"No, just…just go. Get them help. I will follow," he said, slowly starting to fall into a daze. "I will look on them again…when I am worthy to see them."

Beorn shook his great head once before striding away. None dared hinder the large creature.

The other dwarves surrounded Thorin as the fight picked up again. Only _now_ did this seem ridiculous…wasteful. Only now that he would lose everything he truly cared for did he look at himself…and see how pathetic a creature he was…a sad little king of a sad little hill.

_What have I done?_

Thorin moved through the rest of the battle as if in a trance, felling droves of orcs and goblins, and as the blood flew in a haze all around him, the only sight to fill his weary eyes was the countless dead…the dead and the dying. Would his stubbornness be the killing stroke that laid Bilbo among their number…Fili and Kili? The ancient hoard…the Arkenstone…the mountain itself, his home…none of it would be worth anything if he lost them. Only now did he understand what Bilbo had been trying to tell him all along. It wasn't worth it…not _this_.

When at last the cries of victory began to rise…that the enemy was routed and on the run…Thorin did not join in. He stumbled toward the war camp in a daze, not sure if he could face what he might find there.

He came to his nephews first. Kili was sleeping under the effects of some elvish healing draught, but Fili was still awake.

"I asked them…to put him under," the elder brother explained weakly. "I don't…want him to see."

"Damnable brat," Thorin snarled as he knelt beside his nephew. "Don't talk like that."

"No, Uncle," Fili sighed. "There isn't much time left. They told me…but…they say…that Kili will live. They were in time."

"You would do so cowardly a thing as die…leave your brother alone?"

Fili shook his head. "He won't…be alone. You'll look out for him. After all…he is your heir now."

"Fili…I didn't mean…for it to go so wrong. I never meant to bring this on you."

"You didn't. We knew…what could happen. We fought for you…because we love you. Remember that. Kili…might be angry at first…but I would be, too. It's enough…that he lives."

Thorin felt his shoulders tremble as he reached out to take Fili's hand. It wasn't enough. It would never be enough…but he couldn't let Fili see that…not now. "You are a much stronger dwarf than I, my nephew."

"Well…it's harder…for the ones left behind…isn't it," he said, letting his eyes slide shut as his grip on Thorin's hand tightened.

"Uncle?" he murmured a while later, his voice a little higher than normal…like a frightened child. "Will you…tell him…I love him?"

"Everyday," he promised.

Fili smiled, his eyes remaining shut. "Thank you," he said, several tears sliding down his cheeks.

It could have been an hour or a minute Thorin knelt there, just holding Fili's hand and listening to the sound of his labored breathing. Then, finally, he breathed in…out…and his hand went slack in Thorin's. The dwarf king raised his hand to his lips and brushed them gently across the knuckles before leaning down and pressing a kiss to his forehead.

"May you know peace…little child of Durin," he whispered against the still brow. Then Thorin Oakenshield buried his face in his nephew's chest and wept.

XxX

The elves had assured him Bilbo was alive, but not being of a mind for trusting elves, even now, that assurance was worth little when he saw the hobbit's tiny, pale form lying on a cot made for a much larger person. When he reached Bilbo's side, it was almost as if his legs stopped working, for he just fell to his knees beside him, not even bothering with a chair…even though he knew his vigil could be long. Hesitantly, he reached for a small, cold hand.

"It is well, I suppose…that I will listen to you now…when we cannot speak…when you can no longer hear me," Thorin said, feeling his throat tighten as his thumb traced slow circles along the back of the hobbit's hand. "I didn't…understand…why that betrayal on the wall hurt so much. All I could understand…was that you had hurt me. Only…I think, my thief, that I _do_ understand. I _see_ now. You were the most faithful of all. You were the one who saw the truth of what the dragon sickness blinded me to…how worthless it all was…and I would trade every last _speck_ of treasure Erebor has to offer…if it could only bring Fili back…if you would only look up…" Losing his nephew had been hard, but losing Bilbo would be more than he could bear.

"Please…Bilbo…open your eyes," he begged, taking the halfling's hand in both of his. "Come back to me. If you die…I will die _with_ you…though it would be more than I deserve…to rest with you. It should be _me_; not you. I would _gladly_ die, if only you would smile again." It was more emotion than the dwarf king had ever given voice to, but the time for concealment was long passed. What would he do if all the things he wanted to say to Bilbo Baggins remained unsaid? What if Bilbo never woke up to _hear_ these words?

"You don't deserve him," Gandalf's voice sounded somewhere behind him. "You could live a thousand years in penance and you _still_ wouldn't be worthy of this hobbit."

"I _know_ that," he muttered, not looking back at the wizard. Under normal circumstances, he would have been enraged that Gandalf had dared to eavesdrop on him, but he just could not muster his anger…not anymore…not after what it had caused. "They say…the arrow was poisoned. There's…nothing you can do?"

"Master Baggins has been pulled back from the farthest shore. The rest is up to him."

"I see," the dwarf said solemnly, still not looking at him. "And where were you, master wizard, when my nephew lay dying?"

"I came as quickly as I could, Thorin. Though, sadly, not quickly enough, and I am the sorrier for it. Fili was much too young."

Finally turning to look at the old wizard, a small part of Thorin was pleased to see he had not escaped unscathed. His arm was set in a sling.

"Perhaps it is no more than I deserve…to watch him die…and know that I might have prevented it. Even now, the worst is still to come," he said, not wanting to imagine the look in Kili's eyes when he woke to find his brother gone forever.

"You have wounds of your own that want tending to," Gandalf reminded him, eying the dwarf lord with no small amount of worry.

"Then let the healers come to me here," Thorin said, turning his attention back to Bilbo. "I will not leave his side until he wakes, or…or death takes him," he finished, reaching up a gentle hand to stroke the hobbit's damp curls.

"You are aware you are needed elsewhere, King Under the Mountain?" Gandalf pressed.

"Then let someone else have the job," Thorin hissed at him. "Clearly, I am not a worthy candidate."

"We will see," the wizard said before stepping out of the tent.

XxX

Like Gandalf, it seemed the rest of the world was not content to leave Thorin in peace. Several hours later, Balin led Bard into the tent.

"My apologies, Thorin, but the bowman insisted on speaking with you."

"Have you really come to discuss shares _now?_" Thorin asked the man without looking at him. "My people are just as grievously injured as yours are now."

"I did not come for that, King Oakenshield. I have little doubt that accounts will be settled in due course. I came to return the treasure of your house."

With that, the man of Dale swept aside his battle-torn cloak and Thorin slowly turned to look at him, wincing at the glittering sight of the Arkenstone. The dwarf lord found that the magnificent stone no longer inspired the pride and joy it had when he was young. All he could see was a piece of shiny rock…just as Bilbo had said…and it was this same accursed rock that had sent Bilbo from his side when he might have protected him. In a single day, his entire world had been turned on its head and the Arkenstone was now worthless. It was cold and lifeless, and it could not bring Fili back…nor bring the color back to Bilbo's ashen face.

"Take that cursed piece of stone from my sight. I never want to lay eyes on it again. Keep it, if you will; much good may it do you. Or if you will not, throw it to the western sea, the depths of Mirkwood, that damned lake where Smaug lies. It is little more than _rubbish_ to me," he snarled before tuning back to Bilbo. "Balin and the rest will see that the shares are divided justly."

"As you wish, my lord," Balin said before leading the bowman out. He knew that Thorin could only bear to be troubled so much right now. He had witnessed the king's losses and they were many…but the proud dwarf had never had his entire world come undone around him like this. He had lost a home with the coming of Smaug, certainly, but he had still had a cause to fight for. It had taken the loss of Fili…and now maybe the halfling, as well…to make him see that he'd been fighting for many of the wrong reasons.

The next day, it was Dain who interrupted his vigil, barging into the tent without announcement.

"So _this_ is where I find you, cousin? Idle while your company just fritters away the riches of Erebor."

"Balin speaks for me. I trust his judgment."

"Then you don't realize how much is being divided up."

"And _you_ don't realize just how much the mountain still contains. Do you require a share for yourself, cousin? A share of a treasure _you_ refused to help reclaim, as I recall."

"They're giving a share to the _elves!_"

"Yes, because we would all be dead without them. Are we really going to start all this again? If I hadn't…been so stubborn about this…maybe the battle would've gone differently. Maybe…maybe Fili…and the halfling…" he stumbled, his gaze drifting back toward Bilbo.

"Am I to understand that _you_, Thorin Oakenshield, are weeping for a _concubine_ while your kingdom is besieged?"

At this, Thorin felt the anger he hadn't been able to summon flare in his heart. The very next moment, there was a knife in his hand…held to his cousin's throat.

"You insult him…to rate him so," he snarled. "You may speak to me of _shares_ when your own son lies slain at your feet and your own beloved wife is moldering in the earth."

Dain was about to argue when all sound was suddenly silenced by a horrible scream, a cry so harrowing it would have raised the fur on a warg's neck. Thorin instantly recognized Kili's distraught voice. It was the sound of a young dwarf realizing he would never see his brother again. Slowly, Thorin withdrew his blade, shaking his head.

"No. No more. Leave me in peace, my cousin. I will come to you all…when I know. Until then, Balin speaks in my name."

XxX

It was a full two days before Kili came to him, his eyes glassy and his heart broken.

"Kili…" Thorin began, barely able to meet his gaze. "What can I say? What can I do?"

"Uncle…why did…they save me? Why didn't they save him?"

"Because you _could_ be saved. You were only run through with a blade. Fili…Fili was gutted. There was nothing they could do."

"Why did they save my life?" Kili repeated. "They should have let me die."

"Your life was saved…because Fili wished it so."

"_Why?_" Kili demanded, his voice a tangle of anguish. "He knew…he _knew_ I would have rather died…than be alone. Why did he leave me? I would have gone _with_ him." Indeed, he had tried. Balin had told him. It had been a full hour before the dwarves had been able to pry the young prince away from Fili's body. After that, he had taken up his dagger and they had had to tie him down to stop him harming himself. Throughout all of it, his terrible screams had echoed through the camp, stabbing into his uncle like a blade…like an accusation.

"And thrown his dying wish to the wargs? His wish that you live? It was his only comfort in his last moments. You would rob his spirit of that?"

"He…he wasn't alone…at the end? You were with him?" Kili asked, his voice unsteady.

"Until the last," he reassured his only remaining nephew. Kili's legs seemed to give out at this and he fell to his knees, curling in on himself and wrapping his arms around his torso.

"What…what's he going to do without me?" the young dwarf whispered, though he really meant the opposite. What was _he_ going to do without _Fili?_

Uncertain how to deal with this new fragile Kili, Thorin approached him slowly, moving to his knees in front of him and placing his hands on his shoulders. "He will guard you…as he did in life…as is an older brother's duty; and wherever he has gone, he will wait for you."

Slowly, Kili drew his gaze up to Thorin's. In the space of an instant, his dark eyes had grown darker. Something in him had broken…broken beyond any mortal hand's ability to repair it. Something in him had _died_, had gone beyond the power of recall. In that moment, Thorin keenly felt the loss of _both_ his sister-sons. Kili lived, he still drew breath, but the mischievous, loving, brave child he had known was dead. The dwarf he had been would rest with Fili beneath the earth, and a completely different one would walk away from this tent. Despite Fili's struggle, Kili had _not_ survived, not really. Both brothers had been lost.

Thorin sighed in resignation as he pulled Kili into his arms. It wasn't something he usually did, but Fili was no longer here to do it. He could see now that it had been foolish to hope Kili could be saved. It was Fili and Kili…or nothing at all. Fili must have known that…but had been unwilling to accept it. Thorin had had his tears for Fili, but Kili's were only just beginning.

"What will you do…" the king suddenly heard his nephew's voice at his ear, "…if Bilbo never wakes?"

Thorin hugged the boy a little tighter before answering honestly, "I don't know."

_I suppose…like you, my sister-son…whatever it is that makes me Thorin Oakenshield…it will die. My heart will pass to the utter West with him._

XxX

It was on the morning of the fourth day that Thorin raised his head from Bilbo's cot to see the hobbit looking worriedly down at him. Slowly, Thorin straightened, eyes wide and breath tremulous…as if he hardly dared to believe it.

"Thorin…are you all right?" the halfling asked, his throat hoarse from disuse.

"You've come back to me," Thorin whispered, reaching out a hand to touch Bilbo's cheek. Bilbo raised his good arm up, as well, laying his hand on top of Thorin's, also seemingly trying to reassure himself the dwarf king was real. Then, being careful of his injuries, Thorin pulled Bilbo into his arms, burying his face in his hair.

"Thorin-"

"I'm _so_ sorry," he said, his voice a hiss in Bilbo's ear. Once the words had started, he couldn't stop them. "What I said…what I did…I didn't mean _any_ of it. I _see_ now…I understand…what you were trying to do…and I repaid your love with hatred. I allowed the same curse of greed that laid hold of my forebears to take _me_…and all you did was try to _save_ me…like you always do, though I prove myself unworthy every time. When I thought I'd lost you, I…I…"

"Shh," Bilbo soothed, as if hushing a child after a nightmare. Returning the embrace, he ran a hand up and down Thorin's back, reassuring him of his presence. "It's okay, Thorin. It's all right. I'm still here. I'm with you."

For a long while, the two just held each other, each breathing the other in. As they held each other, taking comfort from their own two heartbeats, Bilbo began to talk, reliving the past four days.

"I was…lost…somewhere grey and cold. I couldn't find my way; nothing was familiar. There were others…elves, dwarves, men, orcs, goblins…so many…all trying to find their way. Then…I thought I heard my mother's voice. I tried to follow it…I was so close, but then I heard another voice…_your_ voice," he admitted.

"Mine?" Thorin asked, drawing back to look at him.

"Yes. I heard you…calling me back. So I came back," he said, offering Thorin a shy smile…but then his eyes suddenly went wide with horror and fear. "Fili! I…I saw Fili in that awful place. Where…where is he? Is he all right?"

Feeling the sadness descend on him afresh, Thorin shook his head, destroying the frail hope in the hobbit's eyes. "Fili…Fili is dead."

"Oh…oh, no. Thorin…no. I'm so sorry," he said quietly, tears in his own eyes as he reached a hand up to lay it on the king's cheek. Thorin shook his head.

"Perhaps…it is my just punishment. Maybe if I hadn't been so eager to kill my allies over a few jewels…we might have made a better stand against our true enemies. Maybe Fili would be alive now…and Kili…Kili…"

"You can't know what would have happened," Bilbo tried to console him. "There's no sense in maybes."

"No…but they will be behind my eyes at night for the rest of my life…those maybes…and Fili and Kili…I will carry them with me until I die."

"I don't doubt it," Bilbo said, his expression aching as he ran his fingers through the dwarf's coarse hair. "But…perhaps…if you had someone to help you carry that weight…perhaps it wouldn't be so painful," he suggested.

"Is there such a person?" Thorin asked, his voice only a shade away from hopeful. "Who would be willing to share the burden of such guilt? What dwarf is strong enough?"

"Not a dwarf, but a hobbit, on the other hand…I think he could handle it. He could help you sleep…and wake you when those nightmares become too much; and…he'll love you, Thorin Oakenshield…King Under the Mountain or no."

"Will he?" Thorin asked, his blue eyes bright with unshed tears.

"Yes," Bilbo said firmly, leaning forward to place a gentle kiss on his king's lips. It was brief, but the emotion behind it was like water to a man dying of thirst. Once they'd separated, tears on both their cheeks', Bilbo coaxed Thorin into laying his head down on his lap. "You should rest now. I can tell you've had precious little of that these last few days."

Giving in, Thorin rested against Bilbo, wrapping his arms around his waist. Then, after Bilbo had been stroking his hair for a while, the dwarf king finally let go of the tears he'd been holding back. He cried for all the times in his life when he'd dared not. Here, at last, he was safe, sheltered from the storm.

Thorin cried until he had no more tears left, until his face and eyes were red and puffy with them, until he was an absolute mess…and only then did he finally fall into a deep sleep, sleep such as he had not known since the coming of Smaug…there, in an elf camp, with his head cradled in a hobbit's lap.

Neither of them had any idea what the coming days might bring, but it didn't matter so terribly much right now. In this moment, they were together, and that was enough.

XxX

(A/N) So…I didn't kill you too much, did I? I _do_ have an idea for how this might continue; it would just take a bit of work. Would such a story interest anyone?


End file.
